The Rising Phoenix
by Roxburry Black
Summary: Poland visits one of the most horrible scars on his land, Auschwitz and meets someone who is willing to give him advice and perhaps help in him do the impossible, forgive. Super angsty and sad but story better than summary, promise.


I do not own Hetalia

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It wasn't often Poland tortured himself by traveling to the sullied land where the most vile of all human creations had sat. He tried to do it once every five years, so he would never forget. It wasn't often he did it but he felt he had no choice. Before he even pulled into the nearby town's train station he could feel the scar on his body begin to burn and pulse with the echoes of a million screaming voices and broken hearts. As he got closer the vicious scar began to ooze blood and a putrid stench of rotting flesh. But soon the whole complex was in sight, he stood on the train tracks that lead straight up to the large front gate.

His body shivered and was wracked with tremors, with each step he took his blood began to boil. He slowly, agonizingly retraced the steps that so many of his citizens had taken to their deaths. All the way up the railroad tracks to pass under the brick archway. As he paused, gazing up at the bricks the ghostly sobs and pleas from so many years ago whispered around his ears. Each small child's confusion, each adults terror and the guards hardened hearts and empty souls, each human's being shivered within him. But there he was, finally past the front gates and staring at the unloading station.

And for a moment he couldn't see 2013, like a scratched film reel his memory played before his eyes.

#$#$#$#$#$#

_Hustled out of a train by the grating bellows of the guards Poland struggled to keep his heart from bursting with the hundreds of pleas of cries of his citizens to stop this. The women and children were separated. The child he had been striving to comfort and protect was wrenched from his arms, his own pleas went unheeded and the child screamed in terror. She screamed in Hungarian, her eyes shiny skinny arms reaching for the Polish protector who was thrown to the ground and ground under the boot of the enemy. Poland watched, writing from under the leather of his tormentor as she was thrown carelessly into the line heading straight for the showers. He screamed. He screamed for his citizens, Hungary's citizens, Russia's soldiers, Lithuania's children, Latvia's mothers, Estonia's fathers, Ukraine's' uncles and Belarus's aunts; he screamed for himself. Swear words in every dialect of Polish, in any and every ancient version of the language he knew, curses, treats and promises that they would not crush the nation he was. Pressure on his chest increased and feeling his bones creak he finally snapped his green eyes to the only color in the gray world surrounding him._

_Blue eyes. Icy, unfeeling, cold and heartless blue eyes belonging to the creature that had orchestrated this entire thing. Germany's eyes. His face was twisted into a grimace, born from the power he had craved for so long, born from the mindless obedience to his leader. He was so twisted and contorted from the evil that his citizens demanded Poland knew this was not the Germany he was familiar with. _

_#$##$#$#$ _

But as soon as the memory started it disappeared, leaving Poland reeling. Putting a hand out for something, anything to steady his fall he came in contact with, not the air he was expecting because there was no wall. But a firm, steady hand which grasped his upper shoulder and hauled him upright.

"Are you alright?" He stared into the wide blue eyes of a blond hair girl wearing a black hoodie and brown cargo pants. She had asked her question in English but not with the irritating accent from England's house but with the cheerful- by- default accent of America's house.

Poland didn't answer he was to busy examining her obviously Germanic features. She had a backpack slung over her shoulders and looked both worried and furtive.

"Do you not speak English? Sorry, should have realized that." Keeping one hand on his arm she fished a small English – Polish dictionary out of one of her many large pockets. He still didn't speak, the wrenching pain in his scars abated with momentary confusion. In the most broken and garbled Polish the American posed her question again.

"Are you alright?" He winced and nodded. Ignoring her relief he brushed her arm off and straightened.

"Your accent needs work, so does your pronunciation." He said and she blinked rapidly an empty smile stretched across her face before she chuckled.

"Oh, sorry. I'll work on that." She took as step back and stuck her hand into the large pocket in her hoodie, "Do you need help?"

Poland ignored her question, "What are you doing here, it's closed to the public to today." The America suddenly looked extremely sheepish, "I didn't really know that but I guess that explains why there's no one here but you. Speaking of which, why are you here if it's closed to the public."

"I'm not the public," Poland narrowed his eyes, "I could have you arrested."

To his never ending surprise she chuckled again. "You're not worried."

"If your going to arrest me go ahead, but if not then don't. Either way I don't care."

"Why not," he straightened his uniform.

"It's not something I concern myself with, either way its something interesting."

Poland glanced around, there was no one else in sight among the lifeless buildings. He saw the flattened grass were she had walked past the partitions and ropes. She couldn't have been a day over 17, what was she doing here?

"Where are your parents?" Poland noticed her eye twitch and she swallowed, looking away.

"They're dead."

"Oh...sorry."

She shook her head, bobbed blond hair swaying gently, "It's okay, it was their own fault."

"Erm." There was silence until Poland took a step forward. Together in silence they moved past the empty unloading station and toward the tall black gates with the inscription -

ARBEIT MACHT FREI

Poland stoppd and stared up at his, waves of misery from the countless victims tearing through him, "Work makes you free." He said softly, turning his eyes toward the ground. "Welcome to Auschwitz 1"

#$#$#$#$#

Alodia Philips shivered, the strange man's words echoed through her mind as if it had been repeated hundreds of times to hopeless inmates. He sounded to defeated and beaten it made her heart ache with shared pain. His bright green eyes were dulled with so much pain his body was probably deteriorating from the inside, his arms shook as he pointed into the interior of the camp.

"Over a million people passed under this gate, working, whipped, tortured and beaten under the yoke of the Nazis. My citizens, my children so many taken in their prim. So many murdered senselessly." The strange cape on his uniform fluttered in a light spring breeze, ruffling the grass and sending their hair whirling about their eyes. She dared not interrupt his speech as he marched in, back ramrod straight telling her everything about the camp and details she really didn't want to know. His English was flawless but his words trembled with sadness and every once in a while on her impromptu tour he would be wracked by a full body spasm. Alodia didn't dare try to understand his feeling or why he was doing this. But she humored him, allowing him to pull her from building to building, room to room until she knew more about the hellish stain on history than she wanted to. It was outside the crematorium which had been destroyed during an uprising that he sank to he knees, hands clasped over his eyes and the unknown man began to cry.

It was then she finally noticed the growing bloodstain on his leg and chest.

"Holy Shit!" She swore and dropped to her knees behind him, propping his shaking and sobbing form against the remaining stacked bricks she pulled off her backpack. With frantic motions she fumbled with the zippers until she pulled out her first aid kit. The strange fellow slowly stopped crying as she rolled up his pants legs to reveal a hideous gash the wrapped about from his knee to his ankle. How had he not been limping? He stared at her, his glassy green eyes gazed into nothing as Alodia frantically disinfected his leg and wrapped it in healthy amounts of gauze. When that was done she began to unbutton his jacket, tears slipped out her own eyes as her stomach churned from all the facts she had learned that day. He obliged her, moving his arms out of the way so she could unbutton and slip of his shirt.

#$#$#$

Poland heard the human gasp and a tiny, inane smile flickered across his lips. Across his chest was a bloodied and charred scar which represented the concentration camps that had been built in his nation after he had been annexed. He closed his eyes, cool lotion was being spread across his chest it was a welcome relief, his muscles ached and as she began to bandage they relaxed. As she made him sit up to wrap them around his back she hissed between her teeth. He knew what lay back there, white scars crisscrossed from the unyeilding lash of a leather whip. She yanked off her hoodie and forming it into a pillow slowly laid him back onto it. The American folded up his shirt and spread his jacket over his chest in the form of a crude blanket. Calloused fingers rolled his pants leg back down with more kindness than he could imagine in such a setting. Finally she took his hand in hers and stroked it gently.

"They attacked us so quickly, we had no idea what was happening. By the time we figured out they were invading we had already lost. Steamrolled over for living space. It was humiliating to be taken prisoner so quickly. At Germany's mercy and at the mercy of the Soviet Union. It was brutal. Crushed, destroyed, without even a proper fight. We had to be rescued, fished out by the Soviet Union and then controlled for decades until America stepped in." He put an arm over his eyes, "So stupid, I was an idiot. How could I not know what they were going to do?"

"Hmmmmmm." she hummed. "I don't think you should see it like that."

He gave a derisive laugh, "Yeah, why not?"

"Well, just look at the ruins of this crematorium." He opened his eyes and moved his arm, staring at her, "Its evidence that you guys wouldn't take it sitting down. Look at the resistance you guys did. The underground, impeding German work and so on and so forth. And think about, while there might have been collaborators look at the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. You kicked ass and totally would have beaten the shit out of the Nazis if the Russians had actually helped by using artillery. But for a bunch of badly armed women and children you did a great job. Poland used to be the powerhouse of Europe, kicking Prussian ass and taking names. Lithuania too. You know what this place is called in America?" He dumbly shook his head, "The phoenix of Europe. Doesn't matter how bad things got you never gave up, never let some evil bastard run you over and get away with it. Rising from the ashes, without fail, stronger and better than before."

Past the dulling ache he felt his heart begin to throb with determination and pride. A warm, blazing fire of kindness and compassion smothered the previous flames of anger and hatred. His limbs began to tingle instead of ache and he smiled, slowly.

"So you see, it wasn't all hopeless, in my experience people don't let go of whats theirs that easily. Especially a country."

Poland buried his face into her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist; crying with gratitude. Her blunt fingertips smoothed down his hair, muttering soothing words.

He felt the warm fabric of her cargo pants, soaked through with the shared tears of both the past and the present. Slowly, hiccuping he began to drift off but he moment he felt the human try to stand up and leave he tightened his grip.

"Don't go, please. Stay?"

#$#$#

Alodia sighed at his weak, half-mumbled plea. The sun was setting now, no doubt they'd be out here all night. Doing as little as possible to disturb the stranger she wrapped her coat around his shoulder and finally pulled on another jacket herself. Her eyelids drooped, as she gazed around Alodia trembled. Hundreds of ghosts had appeared. Each wearing the striped uniform of the abused prisoners or civilian clothes from every country and some uniforms, each wearing sunken blank faces staring at her lifelessly. The crowd of ghosts stretched on for as far as she could see. None of them moved, she tightened her grip protectively on the polish mans shoulders. Slowly they began to part, moving out of the way until a little girl appeared. Alodia didn't recognize her but the girl smiled at her. The only one to look anything besides miserable. Her clothes were cute and looked very old fashioned, as she walked her feet floated an inch above the grass and gravel. Stopping next to the sleeping man she stooped down and with a single ghostly finger touched his back. Alodia's eyes went wide as the girl gave another smile and vanished quietly into nothing. Was it her imagination or did the mans breathing become lighter?

One by one the many of hundreds ghost each touched the blond man and one by one they gave her a grateful smile before vanishing.

After seeing a Soviet and a Frenchmen disappear Alodia began to laugh and while she laughed she cried. Sobbing she fell asleep, holding onto the man with as much need for comfort as he needed.

#$#$#$#$#

Alodia woke up to someone nudging her leg with a boot. Her blue eyes snapped open as she found herself quite alone, no ghosts and no mysterious man. She stood up ignoring her protesting muscles and stared avidly at the police officer who had woken her up. He looked rather frightened and confused but still frowned at her. Turning her head she saw her hoodie, folded up neatly. As she picked it up a slid of paper slipped out of the folds, curious she turned it over and read.

Thanks,

Here's something in case you get in trouble.

Underneath was a note written in Polish and slowly she handed it to the dumbfounded police officer, confused as to why his face turned white but didn't protest when he ushered her out of the gates without arresting her.

# # # #

Next world meeting.

It wasn't often Poland bothered to look in Germany's direction, every nation knew this. And it definitely took them all by surprise when the flamboyant Pole flounced into the room and made a beeline straight for him.

"Like, Germany," he sang and the German turned slowly toward him, Italy and Japan inched away, "How's it going. I've heard things have been, like totally balls at your house. What's going down?"

"Ermmmmm," Germany knew every nation was staring at them, confused as hell, "Greece owes me money but other than that, not much. You?"

Poland waggled his fingers, "Nothing, just, like, saying hi!" With that he turned and bounced over to America, perfectly bobbed hair tossing perfectly.

"Like, hi America. Can I, like, talk to you?"

The world trembled as the superpower and the phoenix left the room.

#$##$

"So what do you need Poland?" America eyed the Pole who suddenly looked very serious.

"Thanks America."

"What?" He didn't get an answer because Poland had already flounced out of the room calling out for Lithuania.


End file.
